The Mackenzie, The Trilogy Box Set

by H. C. Brown

  “I would be more ‘n ’appy to stay, milord.”

  “Very well, then see the stable master about finding you a place to sleep. We will be leaving the moment Laird Mackenzie arrives.” He sidestepped a pile of manure and headed toward his stone-faced valet, Joseph Bent.

  He first met Mr. Bent in a dark alley behind his favorite gaming establishment in London. Rupert had left by the back door after winning a substantial amount of money and a group of vagabonds had attempted to steal his watch and whatever else he had on his person. Out of the gloom, Mr. Bent had arrived like an avenging angel to beat them off. Discovering him to be starving and homeless, he offered him the position of footman at his London townhouse. Having proved his loyalty and being handy with his fists and big to boot, his promotion to personal valet had been inevitable.

  Joe handed Fru Fru to him then glanced furtively over one shoulder and shuddered.

  “Are yer sure yer want to stay here, milord? They look to me like untrustworthy coves and I cannot understand one word they are sayin’.”

  “Yes, I am quite sure, and have no fear, Mr. Bent, you will soon understand the dialect.” He tucked his dog under one arm and smiled. “I would advise you to be mindful of what you say. You may not be able to understand them, but I can assure you they will know an insult if they hear one.”

  He led the way from the stables glad to be in the sunshine. “Go along to the inn and have a bath sent up to my room. I am carrying the stink of the cargo ship.” He raised a brow and appraised his valet. “As do you.” He waved a lace kerchief under his nose. “Lay out the blue and arrange a bath for yourself, if you please, before attending me.”

  “Yes, milord.” Joe sniffed under one arm and frowned. “I am thinking my clothes need to be burned they stink somethin’ awful. Was just as well we kept most of the trunks in the hold or we would not ’ave a thing to wear.”

  “That is precisely the reason why I instructed you to pack old clothes for the voyage. Discard anything that cannot be laundered to my satisfaction and select clothes from the other trunks.” He sighed. When will I find a valet that will do the job without need for instruction?

  “But do not unpack any more than essentials because Laird Mackenzie might well arrive on the morrow to escort us to Badenoch.”

  “Very well, milord.” Joe straightened then glanced around suspiciously. “But be careful walking around alone. I hear tell of press gangs all along the docks. What would I say to Laird Mackenzie if yer went missin’? He would ’ave my hide for not keepin’ an eye out for yer safety.”

  Rupert touched the hilt of his sword. “I do appreciate your concern, but I am sure I will be quite safe in broad daylight—and I have Fru Fru. He will sound the alarm should anyone try to sneak up on me.” He indicated in the direction of the inn with his chin. “Off you go. I will return within the hour.” He took a few coins from his pocket and handed them to him. “Buy a pie from one of the street vendors for luncheon and we will sup in the inn after we have bathed.”

  “Thank you, milord.” Joe bowed then turned and marched purposefully toward a woman with a tray of freshly baked pies.

  Glad to have solid ground beneath his feet after weeks at sea, he strolled out into the crisp morning air and inhaled the flavors of the city, from the delight of fresh baked bread to the foul odor of unwashed bodies. He gazed into the distance familiarizing himself once more with his surroundings. The main road held the usual bustle of people going about their business but unfortunately, no large group of travelers moved in his direction.

  Worry over the safety of Lady Adrianna had dogged his thoughts since leaving England. Had Drew managed to rescue her from Lord Moreau’s clutches? If so, surely he would have arrived in Inverness by now unless something had gone amiss. He gazed into the sky and rubbed his chin. The weather had been intemperate these past weeks and may have delayed the rendezvous or perhaps, Drew had taken her directly to Foiseil Castle. He would wait, whatever the outcome of the rescue, one of his cousins would arrive to escort him and the precious cargo to Badenoch eventually.

  Glad to be in Scotland once more, he strolled along the busy street, and inner peace surrounded him with a tranquility he had not enjoyed since his last visit.

  Cries of, “Buy ma rabbits, fresh killed today,” “Fresh fish,” or “Hot pies” brought back memories of his mother and wonderful times at Badenoch away from a father whom he constantly disappointed. All at once the smell of rotting flesh accosted his nostrils and he pressed a kerchief scented with oil of cloves to his nose and increased his pace past a man selling fly-blown rabbits on sticks. He tried to ignore the creature’s sightless eyes and blood-soaked lips and made a decision never to consume a rabbit pie again.

  Pushing through the crowd, he reached the town square and sat on the wall surrounding a fountain to soak in the atmosphere. Scottish voices rose and fell in English and Gaelic like music to his ears. The crowd swirled with the muted colors of woolen kilts and the feeling of being home engulfed him. Christ, it is good to be here. He grinned, the action drawing the attention of a matron passing by with two chits. The woman regarded him with disgust from below a crisp white mop cap and dragged her charges past him as if he might ravish them on the spot.

  He stared after her much to the delight of the charming young women who gave him inviting smiles. Moving his attention to the other direction, he concentrated on the journey to Badenoch. The mares would be fine if they moved at a steady pace and took breaks along the way. Drew would be pleased with the purchases he had made for him. Each of the horses bore the pleasant roundness of breeding and the foals due in spring would delight his cousin. Their sire was a fine creature to be sure.

  A cloud covered the sun and a freezing wind cut through his clothes chilling him to the bone. He examined the heavy clouds dominating the horizon and got to his feet. He would return to the inn and if he found no word from Drew, he would enquire after a gaming establishment or perhaps visit a brothel to pass the time. He placed Fru Fru on the ground. “Time to stretch your legs.”

  The tiny dog lifted both front legs in disdain and gave him a soulful look.

  “Oh, I gather you heard the word ‘bath’? Yes, I am afraid you must indulge me. We will be meeting Drew in a day or so and he already has an unfortunate opinion of you. Although, I am sure the dogs at Badenoch have fleas a plenty.”

  Convinced the small dog understood every word he uttered, he lifted the distressed animal and kissed him on the head. “Do not worry about such things. I will keep you safe by my side and away from his beasts.”

  * * * *

  Lord Moreau rested his aching head on his hands and stared at the plate of slop the ship’s cook had placed before him. The smell of fish stew wafted from the galley and his stomach roiled from an overindulgence of the finest whisky he had ever had the pleasure of tasting. He grinned and pain shot through his temples. His indisposition was a direct result of Captain Jacques’ ingenious ruse to tap one barrel of Le Diable Noir’s finest whisky. Jacques’ excuse to taste the quality of the merchandise rather than risk King Louis’ health had seemed sound at the time. Ah well, it would not be his neck on the block if the king was displeased.

  He tore a piece of bread apart and stuffed a portion into his mouth. He needed to have his wits about him. Last eve, when well in his cups, Jacques had threatened to take Lady Adrianna to his bed at the first opportunity and if he allowed such action, Baron du Court would have his head. He may allow him to share in the deflowering of his wives but offering anything less than a virgin would not please his master. Fortunately the ship would dock at Inverness on the next tide, weather permitting, and Jacques would be able to slake his lust at a brothel but in the meantime, he would have to guard Lady Adrianna with due care.

  Perhaps, he could lure Lady Adrianna’s pretty maid to the captain’s cabin on some pretense. After all, she had no value to his master. He could sell any child she bore male or female to any of the brothels in Paris and make a fine profit. He
frowned. Keeping Lady Adrianna out of Captain Jacques’ clutches would prove difficult on the trip to France. He rubbed his chin then smiled at the sudden notion of convincing two whores to join the ship at Inverness. Yes, most brothels would be able to supply two suitable whores for a few pounds and they would be more than enough to entertain the captain for the completion of the trip.

  He motioned to the cook to attend him and drummed his fingers on the scrubbed wooden bench in agitation. The large man moved toward him with undue slowness carrying a pitcher of cider. He covered his goblet with one hand and met the man’s enquiring gaze. “Has Lady Adrianna sent for her luncheon?”

  “No, milord. I have not seen her maid since after the storm, but she did carry enough food to her ladyship’s cabin to feed her for a week.” The cook rubbed his chin. “I have not seen Mackenzie come to think of it either.” He laughed. “He is a bit young to bed both of them, do you think?”

  “I would think with all the fine Frenchmen available, she would choose a man rather than a boy to serve her needs.” He pushed his plate toward the cook and smiled. “Likely she has the boy cleaning her cabin, she is fussy and nothing is good enough. It will be most enjoyable to see her under my master’s whip. He will beat the pride from her.” He pushed to his feet.

  Straightening his waistcoat, he strolled along the passage to Lady Adrianna’s cabin. He knocked and listened intently for any sound of movement inside.

  “Open the door. I need to speak with you.” He hammered again then pressed one ear to the aged wooden panel.

  Nothing, not one sound came from within the cabin.

  Anger rolled over him clenching his fists. How dare she ignore him? He reached for the door handle and finding the door locked grimaced. He had given her explicit instructions not to go on deck unescorted. Damn it all to hell. He had slept like the dead and dallied in his bunk until noon. Captain Jacques might well have deflowered her by now.

  He ground his teeth and strode toward the hatch. Once on deck, a gust of wind lifted his wig and it hovered for a second or two before covering his eyes. With a curse, he dragged the matted hairpiece from his head and blinked into the glaring sunlight relieved to find the captain at the helm. He moved toward him and lifted his voice above the noise of flapping sails and crashing waves.

  “Have you seen Lady Adrianna this morning?”

  “No, I have not.” Captain Jacques grinned and the foul odor of stale whisky and onions escaped from his mouth. “Alas, she is not in my bed, nor her sweet maid.” He winked a bloodshot eye. “Have you by chance mislaid her, milord?”

  “So it would seem.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “The slave is missing too. Order your men to search the ship.”

  “As you wish.” Captain Jacques issued orders to his first mate and turned back shrugging nonchalantly. “She will be found. Where could she possibly hide? No lady of her breeding would be with the goats or risk losing a toe or two below with the rats.” He grinned. “Mayhap you should lock her in her cabin, or perhaps mine?”

  The captain was a fool. Had he forgotten who owned The Black Turtle—who owned their very lives? He gaped at him with incredulity.

  “Have you lost your wits? This lady is a prize for the baron. She has a fortune, land, and connections and is of great value to our master.”

  “Like the others?” Jacques grimaced. “It would seem our master has no appreciation of a fine lady. I would hate to see this English rose die on the eve of her wedding too.”

  Recollections of pain and torture flooded his head and he smiled.

  “I was at the bedding of both his previous brides. It was necessary for me to bear witness to the consummation for the baron to gain his bride’s fortune without any claims of foul play from her father.” His groin heated at the memory. “The baron and I enjoy the sport of inflicting pain and it was never his intention for his bride … either of them, to survive the wedding night.” He raised a brow. “The ‘English rose’ will no doubt outlast the others and it will be my pleasure to watch her beg for her life.”

  “He allows you to watch?” Jacques scowled. “Dear God! I knew you treated whores roughly but—my God!” He lifted his chin. “And what of the maids?”

  He waved a hand dismissively. “Ah, well after we have taken our pleasure with the bride, the master usually beds the maid the next day—if they are virgins. He prefers not to kill a maid as they are useful pets for the garrison.” He shrugged. “Wives you see are disposable. Once the baron has their fortune and virginity, they are of no further use to him.”

  “I see.” Captain Jacques raised both brows. “I suggest you make sure the lady is unaware of your plans. Are you sure she does not speak German? When we discussed the availability of her maid, she gave me the impression she understood our intentions. ”

  He snorted. “I am no fool. She is ignorant of what lies ahead."

  Sometime later, the first mate followed by two sailors came to him.

  “There is no trace of the women. I used the spare key to open the cabin door. The trunk is there, but they have vanished, milord.”

  He glared at him. “Search again.”

  “Mayhap they fell overboard.” Captain Jacques shrugged. “It is possible.”

  “I do not think so, but they could have stowed away in a cargo boat during the meeting with Le Diable Noir.” He stared at the coastline anxious to go ashore. “I admit the lady was reluctant to marry the baron and I took away her choice by informing her she would be wed with or without her permission.” He shook with anger at the thought of her escaping him. “The rendezvous with Le Diable Noir would have given her the means to escape. He may well be involved. A man like him would listen to the pleas of a lady in distress.”

  “No, my friend that is impossible. I was with him the entire time he was on board and my men rowed him ashore. He did not speak to anyone, let alone a lady. If any of my crew had seen the women trying to escape they would have informed me.” Captain Jacques rubbed his chin. “Two women would be hard to miss in the cargo.”

  Anger clenched his fists. “If not Le Diable Noir, it must have been the damn Scottish slave.”

  “Well, I did not lock him in the hold last eve because you gave him to Lady Adrianna. They could have taken one of the boats and escaped under cover of darkness.” Captain Jacques turned to his first mate. “Count the boats.”

  “I always count them, Captain. They all returned, but two of the men complained they had to row the cargo back single handed.” The first mate frowned. “I did not think too much of it at the time.”

  Moreau ground his teeth and glared at Captain Jacques. “It would seem our time in Inverness is going to be longer than planned. No doubt, they will arrive there in a day or so. I am sure the lady has the money to purchase a means of transport.”

  “Finding her will be like finding a needle in a haystack.” Jacques scratched his head. “It is a big place, to be sure.”

  “Ah, I think not.” He smiled confident of his understanding of the Scotts. “I have one thousand guineas at my disposal in the form of Lady Adrianna’s dowry and it will not take me too long to bribe the innkeepers of the whereabouts of one Ian Mackenzie. She has to eat and lay her head down somewhere. The moment she arrives I will know.” He rubbed his hands together. “Have no fear the moment she is back on board I will chain her in the hold. She will not escape me a second time.” He glared at Jacques. “And you will not touch her—do I make myself clear?”

  “Of course.” Captain Jacques turned his attention toward the coastline. “I happen to value my head.”

  Chapter Eight

  Lady Adrianna pushed the damp rag away from her eyes and moaned sending a white cloud of steam into the candlelight. The frigid air did nothing to relieve the pounding in her head or diminish the constant throb of red-hot pain searing her thigh. A fuzzy memory of a dream seeped into her mind. Drew was mopping her face and arms, his voice drifting over her in a soothing stream of Gaelic. When shivers racked her body, he had
laid beside her warming her and offering comfort. What a wonderful dream, to be sure.

  She moved her fingers and a warm hand closed around them strong, and protective. Drew? He stroked her palm with his rough thumb and his long sigh pulled her from the edge of delirium. Heavens above, he had remained at her side throughout the night and, she had clung to him like an anchor to reality. Indeed, no other had offered her such comfort. As a child, she had suffered with the measles to the point of fever terrors. Her nanny had not cared one fig and she had never received as much as a glass of water from her father.

  Water. She rasped a dry tongue across cracked lips and her stomach roiled at the taste of whisky. The straw beneath her prickled her bare flesh, but a thick blanket covered her keeping the chilled air at bay. She attempted to lift her head and a large hand pressed her shoulder.

  “Dinna try to move.” Drew’s face came into view. “Best ye rest a wee bit longer. Ye barely made it through the night, lass.”

  She blinked at the vision before her. He was no dream to be sure. The scent of him washed over her in a reassuring embrace. Concern etched his countenance. His green gaze searched her face and when he bent to examine her, strands of black silken hair brushed her cheek. Her face grew hot at the memory of his ministrations. Her flesh still tingled from his intimate touch on her bare hip and when he lifted her leg to bandage her—oh, my—his lustful expression had branded a most delicious image in her memory. He still finds me desirable.

  Meeting his troubled expression, she offered a smile. “I need water, if you please.” Her voice came out in a strangled croak.

  “Verra well, I will give ye a drop, but ye are verra pale.” He offered her a small cup of water. “Sip this slowly. I dinna want ye to vomit.”